


Today and All the Days that Follow

by unfolded73



Series: S6 Reaction Fics [8]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anal Sex, Aromantic Stevie Budd, Episode: s06e14 Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Missing Scene, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23676055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfolded73/pseuds/unfolded73
Summary: An exploration of relationships, both on the wedding day and in the future.
Relationships: Alexis Rose & David Rose, Patrick Brewer & Stevie Budd, Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose
Series: S6 Reaction Fics [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603735
Comments: 42
Kudos: 366
Collections: David & Patrick Schmoop’s Creek





	Today and All the Days that Follow

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Emily Hampshire for saying in an interview that David and Stevie are soulmates. Thanks to the Rosebudd denizens for speculating how David and Patrick's wedding night might've gone - I think I stole some ideas from you guys. Thanks to my husband for giving me so many ideas for ridiculous sex-adjacent banter. Thanks to Dan Levy for writing this fucking show.
> 
> Note: This fic does reference the "happy ending" a couple of times in a lighthearted way. It's not a big part of the fic but it is mentioned.
> 
> Another note: I probably only have to say this because I've written some dark shit in the past, but while it may sound like I've imperiled Patrick's health at one point in this fic, he's fine. Don't worry.

_9:47 a.m._

Marcy Brewer sipped her tea, giving the waitress Twyla a smile as she gathered up their empty breakfast plates. Twyla met the smile with one of her own at ten times the wattage. “I’m so excited for this evening,” Twyla gushed. “I love weddings.”

“We’re excited too,” Marcy said as Clint pulled out his wallet.

“I mean, I didn’t love my cousin Darryl’s wedding, but to be fair we warned him that saying their vows while skydiving was a bad idea,” Twyla continued.

Marcy met Clint’s eyes and tried to keep her face neutral. “We’re just worried about the rain,” Marcy said, trying to change the subject before she learned more about Darryl’s tragic wedding ceremony. 

Twyla looked out the front window of the café and frowned. “Yeah. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

“We’re just on our way to meet Johnny and Moira now,” Marcy said, “so I guess we’ll find out how much of an issue the weather’s going to be once we speak to them.”

Clint handed a credit card to Twyla and stood up. “I’m going to run to the restroom,” Clint said, patting Marcy’s hand as he left the table. 

The door to the café swung open and revealed David fumbling awkwardly with an umbrella before he managed to get it folded and the door closed against the driving wind. He hurried to the counter and spoke in low, urgent tones to Twyla, who gave him a sympathetic nod and made her way over to the espresso machine.

Marcy stood and approached him, concerned by the anxious way he was drumming his fingers on the counter and biting his lip. She hadn’t spent that much time with David in person, but he looked like he was close to a full meltdown.

“David,” she said, a gentle hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

“The rain has ruined everything,” he said in a small, breathy voice. “We’re going to end up getting married in a barn.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sure you won’t have to get married in a barn,” Marcy said, rubbing up and down on his upper arm. He wore a soft sweater with a rainbow heart on the chest, and Marcy’s own heart squeezed at the thought of him choosing to wear that sweater before he changed into his wedding tuxedo.

David laughed humorlessly. “You’d be surprised how many major events in this town have happened in a barn.”

Twyla brought over a coffee cup, handing it to David and handing Clint’s receipt and credit card to Marcy. “Listen, David, I’ll get someone to cover for me today so that I can help with whatever you guys need today. And if Jocelyn hasn’t already done so, I’ll put out the word to everybody to pitch in,” Twyla said.

“Thanks,” David said, “That’s… that’s really nice of you.”

“We love you guys,” Twyla said with another sunny smile. “The least we can do is make sure you have a nice wedding today.”

“See?” Marcy said when Twyla left to deliver someone else’s breakfast. “Everyone’s behind you. It won’t be ruined.”

David nodded, but didn’t look convinced. “I just wanted today to be perfect.”

“Well, weddings are never perfect. Did I ever tell you about how my sister stepped on my train and ripped it about ten minutes before I was supposed to walk down the aisle?”

Shaking his head with wide eyes, David put his hand over his mouth. “What did you do?”

Marcy shrugged. “We pinned it with a couple of safety pins and I got married in a ripped dress. In the end, I was still married to the love of my life at the end of the day. And you can’t really tell in the pictures unless you know what to look for.”

David took a sip of his coffee, and Marcy thought maybe he was shaking a little bit less than he had been when they’d started talking.

“Patrick is the love of my life too, you know,” he said softly.

Marcy put an arm around him, giving him a squeeze. “Oh, David. I knew that the first day we met.”

~~~

_2034_

“I told Patrick he wasn’t wearing enough sunscreen,” David fretted on the screen of her phone. Marcy could tell by the herky-jerky movement of the camera and the motion of the ceiling above his head that David was pacing the floor.

“David, there’s no need to catastrophize until the biopsy comes back. And even if it’s bad news—”

“Oh, God—”

“ _Even if it’s bad news_ ,” Marcy said more firmly, “skin cancer is treatable. The odds are very good these days.” She ignored the ball of anxiety in her own stomach, focusing on soothing her son-in-law’s nerves.

“All those baseball games, and hikes… just last month he was outside all weekend helping to set up for the Elm County Pride events.”

Marcy watched David flop down on the sofa and run his hand over his face. “You aren’t going to be able to stop him from doing the things he wants to do, David. Believe me, I had to tell myself that with every trip we made to the emergency room when he was a kid.” There was a droning sound outside, and she looked up in time to see Clint trundle past with the lawnmower. It was a job he insisted on doing himself even though they had plenty of grand-nieces and grand-nephews who would do it for them if they asked. She supposed the reckless apple didn’t fall far from the tree. 

A smirk flashed across David’s face. “That arm he broke twice aches sometimes before it rains now.”

Marcy snorted. “He deserves it. He was an idiot when he was a teenager.”

They looked at each other’s faces through their phone screens for several seconds. At fifty, her son’s husband was as handsome as ever, his hair streaked with bits of grey and the lines beside his eyes more prominent. “Also, I’m afraid I’ll be bad at taking care of him,” David said quietly.

“Well, that’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said.”

She startled a laugh out of David with that. “It’s definitely not. Just ask your son.”

“I know you think Patrick is the one who takes care of you, but the thing I’ve learned about you boys over all these years is that you have a knack for not falling apart at the same time. When you need him, Patrick is strong for you. But when Patrick needs you, you’re strong for him.”

She could see the glassiness of tears in David’s eyes. “I hope you’re right, Marcy.”

“Listen to your elders, David,” she said as David’s head whipped around toward something outside the range of the camera. “What is it?”

“He’s on the phone,” David whispered. “It might be the doctor.”

Marcy waited, trying to take her own advice not to worry until there was definitely something to worry about. It almost worked. 

Finally, she could hear Patrick’s voice, followed immediately by an expression of relief on David’s face. “Are they sure?”

“Yeah, she said it’s benign, but that I should have it checked in another six months.” Patrick came within view of David’s phone camera. “Hi, Mom,” he said, his eyes darting to David. “David, did you tell her…?”

The image blurred and swooped as David likely was gesticulating with the hand holding it. “I needed someone to talk to about this, honey.”

Patrick sat down next to David and pulled him into his side. Marcy watched as David hugged her son, the camera at an angle, the phone probably forgotten in his hand.

“I’m sorry if you were worried, Mom,” Patrick said as he pulled out of the hug and David rested his head on Patrick’s shoulder.

“You need to tell me about these things, Patrick. I worry more when you don’t talk to me.” It was a well-trod pattern between them, stretching back to when Patrick was a teenager. She didn’t seriously think Patrick would change now, but it felt better to chide him anyway.

“I know,” he said placidly, turning and kissing the top of David’s head.

“Thank you for being there for us, Marcy,” David said. 

“Of course.” She swallowed back tears that threatened to spill over. “I love you, my sweet boys.”

~~~

 _1:39 p.m._

“So,” Stevie said after she and Patrick had his car doors closed, their raincoats dripping onto the seats and floorboards. “Now we just have to break it to David that the wedding is going to be at the Town Hall.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna go well,” Patrick sighed. “But it really is the best option. He’ll see that, right?”

Stevie gave him several exaggerated nods like she was a bobble-head doll. “Sure.”

Sighing again, Patrick started the car.

“I know he’s been really extra about the wedding, but you know it’s only because marrying you is really important to him, right? Like, the most important thing he’s ever done,” Stevie said as they pulled out of the motel parking lot.

“I know,” Patrick replied. “I mean, there have been moments that I was worried that the wedding was more important to him than the marriage, but…” He couldn’t help the smile that came to his face when he thought about their future in this town. “David’s gesture with the house allayed my fears on that count.”

“David likes things to be just right, is all. So his mind kind of obsessively goes over and over and over stuff that matters to him until he has it the way he wants it. Like his wardrobe. Or the store.”

“Yeah.” Patrick took a left turn toward his apartment. “You know my future husband very well.”

After a long pause, Stevie asked, “Can I tell you something and you not take it the wrong way?” 

“Well, that’s not at all ominous.”

“I think David is, like, my soulmate. Not romantically!” she added quickly. “Just… our friendship is the most important thing in my life. And maybe it always will be.”

Patrick pulled into his parking space at the apartment and shut off the car. He turned and stared at Stevie, trying to wrap his head around what she’d just said. “I’ll confess I’m struggling with the concept of a non-romantic soulmate.”

“That’s because you’re a disgustingly romantic person. I’m … not that. And look, I know that while David is the most important person in _my_ life, he has you and you’re his person. I get that. And I’m more than okay with it. It’s great, actually. I love you guys together, and I love who David has become being with you.” She looked down at her fingers. “I just wanted you to understand… I don’t know. I’m not saying this right.”

Maybe she wasn’t, but Patrick didn’t have to understand her feelings to support them. After all, he’d never understood how she had just stopped wanting to sleep with David at some point. Patrick couldn’t imagine sleeping with David and then not wanting to do it again and again, forever. 

“Stevie, I was already aware that you and David have a special bond. You guys are alike in ways that he and I will never be, and so you probably understand him in ways that I don’t.” He reached over and took her hand in his. “I think that if David hadn’t been your friend first, he and I probably would never have made it here. You made him a better person. I suspect that you still do.”

She snorted. “I’m way too much of a mess to make anyone a better person, but I appreciate that you think so.” She squeezed his hand and let it go. “You’re a close second in the best friend department, you know.”

“I’m honoured,” Patrick said, but then he narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s just because the one thing you can’t do with your best friend David Rose is complain about David Rose, isn’t it?”

Stevie shrugged, laughing. “So what if it is?”

Patrick moved to get out of the car, but then stopped. “I’ve been meaning to say, I assume I have you to thank for David’s change of heart about New York? And the house?”

“He just needed a tiny nudge in the right direction, that’s all. Same as always.”

“Thank you. Seriously.”

“Well, since I’ve once again set your love life on the right path like I always do, I expect payment.”

“How many bottles of wine?” Patrick asked.

“Nope, not that. I have demands about the house. I want to be able to drop by and visit whenever I want. And dinner at least once a week when I’m in town.”

“Should I have an extra key made for you?” Patrick asked, smirking.

“Duh.”

“Okay, but I can’t promise you won’t walk in on something you’ll regret,” he said, finally getting out of the car and hurrying through the rain to the front door of his apartment building.

Stevie was grimacing as she followed him inside. “Fine, I’ll text first.”

~~~

_2022_

There was a sharp knocking sound on the window pane of the back door, and Patrick looked up from the tax documents spread out on his kitchen table to see Stevie’s face framed through the glass. He gestured for her to come in.

“There’s some coffee left,” he said, his eyes already back on his paperwork.

Stevie went straight for the cabinet where the mugs were, getting one down and filling it with coffee before she came over and looked at what Patrick was doing. “Hmm, looks like you’re working.”

He looked up and blinked balefully at her. “Yes. This tax paperwork is due at the end of the week.”

“Looks like you’re working at home. When you have a perfectly good desk in the back of the store,” she said before sipping her coffee.

“I have a little more space to spread out here,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

“So it has nothing to do with the fact that you and David are having a fight.”

Patrick put his pen down and leaned back in his chair. “Okay, you clearly have already talked to him, so out with it. Tell me what you’re here to tell me. And it’s not a fight, it’s a… minor disagreement.”

“Uh huh.”

“Stevie—”

“It sort of seems to me that you were having a reasonable debate over where the second Rose Apothecary location should be and then the debate experienced some… scope creep.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Scope creep?”

Stevie threw up her hands and groaned. “I’ve been in a lot of meetings with the Rosebud Motel Group leadership team lately, sorry.”

“Ooh, tell me what other business-y buzzwords you’ve learned.”

“Don’t change the subject, Brewer; we’re talking about you and David right now, not my career.” She sat down at the table across from him, shoving some papers out of the way so that she wouldn’t have to set her coffee mug down on top of them.

“So what did David say?” Patrick asked, a bit afraid of the answer.

“Here’s what I think,” Stevie said, not answering the question. “I think that you do a lot in this marriage and around the store because you like being needed. And also you like to take charge and control things. Classic service top behaviour.”

Patrick had thought he was done blushing about his sex life around Stevie; apparently not. “I’m sorry, what?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “David talks to me about stuff, you know that. Anyway, my point is that when you get overwhelmed and need help, you have a hard time just asking for help. Instead you passive aggressively make David feel bad that he isn’t doing more.”

“I’m not being passive aggressive.”

“Patrick, you are totally being passive aggressive. And I’m not saying David doesn’t share some of the blame: he’s got this learned helplessness thing that I assume dates back to early childhood and believe me, I find it as annoying as you do. Maybe more so.” She raised her coffee to her mouth and took a sip. “But if you’re overwhelmed right now, maybe you should try just straightforwardly asking David to help you.”

Patrick pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Fine.” He looked up at her. “For someone who claims to not do relationships, you certainly seem to know a lot about them.”

“When would I have time for a relationship? A significant amount of my free time is taken up by being your and David’s marriage counsellor.” She stood up from the table. “So are you good?”

Sighing, Patrick nodded. “I’m good.”

“Good, because I’ve got a flight to Michigan tonight to visit some of the midwestern motels.” She gave him a little wave and left via the back door.

Patrick picked up his phone and called David.

“Hi,” David answered on the third ring.

“Hey. I’m sorry. Can we talk?”

There was a pause, but Patrick could almost hear David nodding. “We can talk. I love you.”

Patrick was already stacking up his papers to return to their file folders. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He glanced around the kitchen, frowning. “And hey, can you tell Stevie to stop stealing our coffee mugs? She just took another one.”

David laughed. “It’s not just the coffee mugs. She has some of our dishes and flatware too.”

“Cool,” Patrick deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “And I love you, too.”

~~~

_5:05 p.m._

Patrick spotted his father coming in from his reflection in the mirror as Patrick prepared to tie his tie. He dropped the two ends of it and spun around. “Thank god,” he said at the sight of the styrofoam containers in his father’s hands. “I don’t know why it just now occurred to me that I forgot to eat today.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine,” his father said with a smirk. “Could there possibly be something else on your mind?”

They sat together at the small desk in the town hall back room where they’d sequestered themselves to change for the wedding. Patrick’s mother was with the other relatives who had made the trip into town, texting frequent updates about his extended family’s shenanigans.

“Oh, I double checked with Stevie. She has the wedding rings,” Clint said as he tucked a napkin into his collar to protect his tuxedo shirt. 

“Is she absolutely sure?” Patrick copied his father’s actions with his own napkin, imagining that if he managed to get mustard on his wedding shirt, David might change his mind about getting married. Finally, he dug into his food.

“She said she texted you a picture as proof,” Clint said with an amused smile. Patrick pulled out his phone while he chewed and sure enough, there were three pictures from Stevie in his messages: one close-up of the open ring box with two wide, gold bands in it, one selfie of her putting the box in the jacket pocket of her suit, and one of her flipping off the camera. He grinned and put the phone away. “Yeah, she has them.”

“She seems like an excellent maid of honour for David,” Patrick’s father mumbled around a mouthful of burger.

Thinking about Stevie’s delight at the happy ending mishap a couple of hours ago, Patrick chuckled and took another bite of his burger. “Yeah.”

“These burgers aren’t very good,” Clint admitted.

Patrick put his down. He’d managed to take three bites out of it, but the butterflies in his stomach were making it challenging to choke down any more of the food he’d wanted so badly a few minutes ago.

“Yeah, they’re never very good.”

“And yet you eat there frequently?”

Patrick shrugged. “It’s next to the store.” He pushed away from the table. “I think I’m too nervous to eat.”

Clint put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, son.”

“For what, going through with getting married this time?” Patrick joked, uncomfortable with his father getting emotional right now. He felt like his own emotions were way too close to the surface as it was.

“For realizing that things in your life weren’t right, and for having the courage to go out and find what you needed to be happy.” 

“It didn’t feel like courage. It felt like running away.”

Clint threaded his fingers together and fidgeted with his thumbs, a nervous tic that Patrick had picked up from his father when he was a kid. “Your mother and I probably didn’t make it any easier on you those first few months, pressuring you to come home.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” Patrick said quickly. Maybe there were other things they needed to apologize for, but wanting him to come home when he couldn’t articulate why he’d left, that wasn’t something he could lay at their feet. “I wish I’d been brave enough to tell you about David from the start. You could have gotten to know him a lot better by now if I’d just—”

“Patrick, no.” 

“It’s true.”

“We’ll have years to get to know him. Thanksgivings and Christmases and maybe some summer trips to the lake house, okay?”

Patrick let out a slow breath. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Clint pushed himself up from his chair, pulling the napkin from his collar. “Then let’s get you ready to get married, shall we?”

~~~

_2021_

“So are you ready for the official tour?” Patrick asked his parents after setting their luggage in the front room of the house.

“We saw the house when we were here for the wedding, remember?” Clint said with an indulgent smile.

“That doesn’t count; they hadn’t moved in yet,” Marcy said. “Now they’re settled in and we get to see it as Patrick and David’s house.” She looked around. “Is David not here?”

“He’s at the store, but he should be home in a half hour,” Patrick said. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”

He took them through the living room — where David had recently hung a piece of Japanese art above the fireplace, the mantle already crowded with pictures from their wedding; where a cozy sofa was angled toward the television Patrick had spent a frustrating Sunday mounting on the wall — to the kitchen. In the morning, the kitchen was Patrick’s favorite part of the house, sunlight streaming in through the south-facing windows as he boiled water for tea and ground coffee beans for David’s French press. One end of the counter tended to collect the detritus of their lives — junk mail, loose pens, change from their pockets, and David’s keys when he forgot to put them in the bowl by the front door. The cabinets were gradually filling up as they acquired more small appliances and salad bowls, crystal wine glasses and those proper pint glasses Patrick had always wanted. 

“We’re going to paint in here next year,” Patrick explained. “I’d like to teach myself to tile so that I can replace the backsplash at the same time.”

“I could come out and help, if you want,” his dad offered. 

“Sure, that would be great.”

He pointed out the dining room and then led them to the one downstairs bedroom, which was doubling as an office and guest room. “You’ll be in here,” Patrick said. “I promise the sofa bed is comfortable. Or Stevie says it is, anyway. She sleeps in here when she’s had too much to drink to drive home.”

“I’m sure it will be fine, sweetie,” his mom said. “The walls are an interesting color,” she commented, pointing out the deep plum walls. 

“Oh yeah, David painted this room. I didn’t think I’d like it, but it kind of works.” He led them out and up the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor of the house where the other two bedrooms were. Stopping in the doorway of the master bedroom, Patrick said, “This is our bedroom, obviously.” He moved on quickly. Even now that he was married to David, he still felt weird about his parents seeing the bed they shared. The couple of times they visited him in his apartment, he’d felt the presence of his bed in the space like it was looming over them, daring his parents to picture him in it with David. 

“The bathroom up here is nicer than the one downstairs, so you’re welcome to come up and use this one,” he said, indicating the room in question. “I’d like to redo the tile in here too at some point, if I can find the time.”

He started toward the stairs, but his mother hung back. “Are those both closets?” she said, pointing to the other closed doors.

Patrick chuckled. “In a manner of speaking. One is the linen closet, one is the third bedroom that David uses as a closet. I don’t think he’d forgive me if I showed you that.”

His parents laughed and shook their heads and followed him down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he poured them wine and set the oven to preheat so that he could bake the lasagna he and David had put together the night before. Then he pulled out ingredients for a salad.

“The house is lovely,” his mom said. “You’ve made a real home here, and it’s wonderful to see.”

“Have you decided what to do with that big yard yet?” Clint asked.

Patrick shook his head. “I’d like to try my hand at gardening, but I’m worried I won’t have the time to keep it up.”

David arrived home then in a flurry of hugs for his in-laws and a kiss on the cheek for Patrick, and in less than ten minutes he and Marcy were deep in conversation over the latest true crime documentary on Netflix. His father pulled a second knife from the block and went to work on the cucumbers while Patrick peeled carrots.

“This is what I always wanted for you, you know,” Clint said softly as they worked on the salad.

Patrick looked over at David. His excitement in making whatever point he was making to a giggling Marcy showed in his high-pitched voice and his broad hand gestures. Turning back to his father, Patrick raised a skeptical eyebrow. He was pretty sure this wasn’t at all what his father had pictured for him when he was young, and Patrick couldn’t help a tiny nugget of resentment from surfacing in his stomach for his father trying to rewrite their history.

“Okay, I didn’t know I wanted _this_ , specifically,” Clint acknowledged. “I just… I wanted you to have a home of your own, is all. A place to settle down and be happy. That’s what I mean. And that’s what you have.”

Patrick smiled. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I have.”

~~~

_5:41 p.m._

“Wow.” Stevie said when he emerged from the bathroom of the motel room.

David dismissed her reaction with a flutter of his hand. “You were with me at the fitting.”

“Yeah, but it hadn’t been fit yet so I didn’t get the full effect.” She eyeballed him up and down. “It’s really sexy, actually. Patrick’s gonna flip.”

David looked down at himself in his wedding clothes. He’d had them shorten the skirt so that the front panel hit him right at the knees, and then he’d been nervous that he’d made a terrible mistake. “Are you sure? It’s not too _funky_?” he joked, harkening back to the opinion about his clothes that Stevie had expressed years ago.

“No, I actually love it.” She took a sip of her champagne. “And you know I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it.”

Going over to the mirror, David began fussing with his hair, making sure every strand was in place. The rest of his wedding might have been ruined, but at the very least _he_ could look perfect.

“Are you nervous?”

He thought about it, probing his feelings. He was excited about saying his vows to Patrick and slipping a wedding ring onto his finger. He was feeling queasy that his vision for the outdoor wedding of his dreams had to be tossed aside because of the weather. But was he nervous? “Not at the moment, but ask me again right before I walk down the aisle.” He huffed. “If they even manage to have an aisle in that place. As I walk between Bob and Ronnie’s desks, I guess.”

Stevie grinned at him. “I went over and took a look at Town Hall while you were getting dressed. You might be surprised when you see it.”

He rolled his eyes, trying not to get his hopes up. “Whatever.”

The door between the motel rooms opened then and Johnny strode in, his bow tie dangling from his collar but otherwise he was dressed and ready to go. “Oh, Stevie, don’t you look lovely!” he said with a big smile before turning to take David in. “And David—”

“Yes, this is what I’m wearing, so don’t start,” David snapped, trying to head off any comments his father might make about the style of his wedding attire. Johnny Rose tolerated, even liked, all manner of fashion from his wife, but that tolerance hadn’t always extended to his son’s sartorial choices. Johnny might have accepted his sexual orientation a long time ago, but he occasionally had some old-fashioned ideas when it came to gender expression.

Johnny blinked, a spark of hurt in his eyes. “David, I think you look wonderful.”

David’s teeth clicked together in surprise. “Thanks.”

“And when I think about…” Johnny paused, and swallowed, and David could see the glassiness of unshed tears in his eyes. “When I think about how much you went through, and that now you’ve found someone to love you and share your life with…”

“Dad, you can’t do this right now; if you start crying, then I’m going to start crying, and then my eyes will be puffy in the wedding pictures and I’ll blame you for it.”

“Mr. Rose, maybe you could go check and see if Mrs. Rose is ready to drive over to Town Hall?” Stevie said gently, putting an arm around him and ushering him back to the door. 

“That’s a good idea, Stevie — thank you.” He gave David one more watery smile before he closed the door behind him.

“Thanks,” David breathed. “I’m touched by how much he cares, but I can’t handle that level of emotion right now.”

Stevie nodded. “Then it’s a good thing you’ve got me, because I’m not capable of that level of emotion.”

David smirked at her. “Right.”

“Although for the record, I do love you a lot, and I’m really happy and honoured that I get to stand beside you while you marry the love of your life today.”

His eyes filled up with tears that immediately spilled over onto his cheeks. “Oh, fuck you.” He wiped under his eyes. “You did that on purpose.”

Stevie grinned. “Yes, I did. But also, it’s the truth.”

“I know.” David sniffled. “I love you, too.”

~~~

_2029_

When Stevie finally showed up on his doorstep the week before Christmas, David pulled her into a hug and almost started crying.

“I haven’t seen you in _months_ ,” he scolded her, his eyes squeezing shut as he rocked them back and forth. 

“I know, I know, I didn’t know I’d have to be at corporate so much this year.” She slapped his arm. “Are you going to let me in anytime soon? I’m freezing.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, stepping back and letting her into the house. Stevie pulled her boots off and left them by the door, hanging her coat and scarf up before following David into the kitchen where he put a glass of wine into her hand.

“So, Dad being a hundred percent retired has been tough, huh?” 

“I really didn’t realize how much work he did,” Stevie said, flopping into a chair. “So many meetings. Resolving conflicts between people with enormous egos. Making a thousand decisions every day, all the while convinced someone is going to point out what a huge fraud I am.”

“Oh my god, don’t talk about my best friend like that. You aren’t a fraud.”

“So what’s going on with the move to Elmdale, is that still happening?”

David felt his familiar anxiety arising at the mention of that topic. “We’ve looked at, like, a hundred houses. Some of them are very nice and two were within walking distance of my favorite pizza place and that new wine bar that opened up last year.”

Stevie squinted at him. “And therefore within walking distance of your Rose Apothecary location in Elmdale.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, and that. Our biggest location, and the one that arguably requires most of our attention these days.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“There is every logical reason to move.”

“ _So what’s the problem?_ ”

“The problem is I love this house!” He said, gesturing around at his warm kitchen. “I love it. We’ve done so much work on it over the years, and I just… I hate the idea of some other family buying it and moving in and living inside these walls that are ours.”

“You’ve always complained that it’s too small,” Stevie pointed out.

“I know. It is.”

“What does Patrick think?”

“He thinks I’m being overly sentimental, but he’s willing to stay in this house if that’s what I want. Of course. Because that’s what my husband does.”

“Maybe you haven’t found a house you like enough to replace this one, but that doesn’t mean that house doesn’t exist,” Stevie said. “Maybe you should keep looking.”

“Maybe.” He waved his hand as if to dismiss that topic of conversation into the ether. “Anyway, I read that profile of you in _Entrepreneur Magazine_.”

Stevie rolled her eyes. “Would you believe that stupid magazine profile got me laid, like, multiple times?”

“I used to live in New York. Of course I believe that.”

“Like, _so_ much dick, David.”

“ _Okay_ , I get it.” He sipped his wine and debated whether to ask the question that was plaguing him. “Any, um, special dicks in the bunch?”

Stevie narrowed her eyes. “Is that your way of asking if there’s anyone special in my life?”

“Maybe.”

“There isn’t. I mean, there’s guys that I’ve seen more than once, but if you’re asking if I’ve caught feelings for anyone, the answer is no.”

“Hmm.” He heaved a sigh and decided to bite the bullet. “So are you gonna… stay in New York?”

Smiling like she could see right through him, Stevie said, “Actually, one of the things I’ve been doing this week is sitting in on interviews for a new Chief Operating Officer. Because I want to come home.”

David’s heart stuttered in his chest, but he schooled his expression to one of skepticism. “You’re a high-powered business woman and you’ve spent the last few months in one of the most exciting cities in the world, getting wined and dined and eaten out by a parade of randoms, and you want to come back to Schitt’s Creek.”

She nodded. “That’s right.”

“Why?”

“I miss the futility of Bumpkin.”

“Stevie, why?”

“Because I missed my friends, you dumb ass.” She swirled her wine. “You in particular.”

David suppressed a smile. “I love you.”

“Love you, too. Dumb ass.”

~~~

_9:42 p.m._

He dodged Alexis’ wobbly nose boop. His nose had been booped by her enough for one day.

“Daaavid. You’re married,” she said, swaying in front of him, a champagne flute clutched in her hand.

“I know, I haven’t forgotten the ceremony. And if I had, you’ve told me that four times already tonight.”

“Yeah, but I just keep thinking about how lonely you were before. Not just when we first got here, but also in New York.”

“Mm hmm, thanks, I appreciate you bringing that up,” he said with an eye roll.

Alexis ignored him. “I mean, there were always people around you, but you were really lonely. And now look.” She gestured around the room. Ronnie and some of the Jazzagals were in a loose circle on the dance floor, dancing and singing along too loudly to Crazy in Love. His father and Patrick’s father were talking at one of the tables, laughing about something. Stevie and his mother (having made a complete costume change after the ceremony) were doing shots at the bar while his new husband and mother-in-law were watching with amusement. “You have all of these people in your life who love you.”

David nodded, too overcome for the moment to speak. They both watched the reception in silence for a minute. 

“Do you think Mom and Dad are going to be okay without us?” Alexis asked.

“They have each other, and they’ve always been the most important person in each other’s lives. They’ll be fine.”

“Do you think we’re going to be okay without Mom and Dad?”

“Yes, I do. Well, _you_ will be, because you’re you. And I have Patrick, so…” 

Alexis nodded. “Do you think we’re going to be okay without each other?”

“I think you better call me all the fucking time,” David said, putting his arm around her. Alexis wrapped both of her arms around his waist and squeezed.

~~~

_2025_

“I still can’t get used to you cooking,” Alexis commented from the tablet screen that David had propped up on the kitchen counter so that he could use both of his hands to finely chop the cilantro that had come out of their garden.

“You _literally_ saw me cooking when you were here last Thanksgiving,” he said, the chef’s knife in his hand making a dangerous arc through the air as he made his point.

“I know, and I still can’t get used to it.”

“Patrick and I wouldn’t still be married if I hadn’t taken on a larger share of the housework, and it turns out, despite all past evidence to the contrary, that I’m good at this. Okay?”

“Okay, David, _god_. Lighten up.”

“So anyway, you were telling me about Mom and Dad,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, she says she’s really done with Los Angeles for good this time, and that they’re staying here in New York for the foreseeable future.” Alexis was fiddling with her hair. “We’ll see.”

“That’s a relief, honestly. I feel better knowing you’re close by to check in on them more frequently. They aren’t getting any younger.”

“When are you guys visiting New York again?” 

David scraped the cilantro into his bowl of chopped tomatoes and grabbed a lime, slicing it in half. “August, I hope. What’s going on with that guy you were seeing? What was his name? Larry?”

“Ew, David. Can you see me dating a guy named _Larry_? It’s Leonard.”

“Uh huh, that’s much cooler,” he smirked. “Are you still seeing him?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if it’s serious. I don’t know if I have time for something serious.”

“You work too hard.”

“So do you.”

David sighed, debating internally whether to tell her the news. 

“What?” Alexis asked, her eyes narrowed. “You’re keeping something from me.”

Setting his knife down, David looked into the camera. “Ted’s back in town.”

She started fidgeting with her hair again. “Oh yeah? What brings Ted to town?”

“His mother is sick and he’s here to help her get to and from her chemotherapy appointments. At least that’s what Jocelyn said. She said he might even reopen his vet practice, but that might just be the Schitt’s Creek rumour mill on overdrive.”

“I should maybe send Mrs. Mullens a card, right? Should I send her a card?” Alexis asked in a small voice.

“I’m sure she would appreciate a card.” He cleared his throat. “If I see Ted, do you want me to—”

“No. I don’t know. Just… tell him I said ‘hey.’ And that I hope his mom is okay.”

“I’ll do that.” David felt a swell of affection for his little sister. “You know, the guest room here is yours anytime you want to visit.”

Alexis nodded up and down several times. “Yeah. I’ll… yeah. Let me check my calendar and I’ll get back to you. I mean, I know you miss me, so…”

He smiled. “I do miss you, Alexis.”

~~~

_12:29 a.m._

“Do you want to dance some more?” Patrick asked, nuzzling against the side of David’s neck as they sat at one of the reception tables.

“We can if you want,” David said. Stevie, Alexis, and Twyla all seemed to just be getting their second wind, gyrating together on the dance floor to “Umbrella.” 

“My feet are kind of killing me, actually,” Patrick admitted. “And as you once told me, sock feet in a public place is incorrect.”

David looked down at the boots he had paired with his Thom Browne tuxedo, which were still really comfortable after several hours on his feet. “Then we don’t need to dance. We did plenty of dancing tonight.” 

“Do you want more cake?” Patrick asked.

“I might explode if I eat more cake.”

“A tragic and disgusting end to a very short marriage,” Patrick said seriously, his lips quirking up on one side in a tiny smile.

“Ha ha.”

Patrick sat up a little straighter then and waggled his faint eyebrows in a spoof of lasciviousness. “Do you wanna come back to my place?”

“Mm, I would, but I’m married,” David said, trying to suppress a grin. 

Laughing, Patrick leaned closer. “Oh, but I’ve heard your husband is pretty liberated about stuff like that.”

David bit his lip. “Only in special cases, like when he hires a sex worker for me. Also, he has a weakness for attractive carpenters who are up for a threesome.”

Patrick looked around, a smirk still firmly planted on his face. “Are there any attractive carpenters here?”

“You know, I would’ve invited Jake? But I didn’t want to find my maid of honour hooking up with him in a closet before we managed to pose for pictures.”

Patrick’s eyelashes fluttered as he looked back and forth between David’s eyes and his mouth. “Seriously, though. We outlasted all of our parents at this party, and the newly married couple does traditionally leave first. We can go whenever you’re ready.”

“I think my parents are out back sharing a joint with Roland and Jocelyn, frighteningly enough, but I take your point. Let’s go home.” Home right now was still the apartment, but next month it would be the new house, which David was almost as excited about as he had been about the wedding.

A swish of white in David’s peripheral vision caught his eye, and he looked up to see Alexis, Twyla, and Stevie. Twyla had an entire bottle of champagne in one fist. “We’re taking this party back to the motel. Wanna come?”

He looked at Patrick, torn between his precious remaining time with his sister before she left for New York, and being alone with his husband. Patrick, as he often could, read David’s mind. “Yeah, let’s go party at the motel.”

Anyone awake and paying attention would have seen the five of them stumbling down the road at a quarter to one in the morning in formalwear, David unable to stop himself from laughing loudly at the ridiculous rendition of “Shallow” that Patrick and Twyla were singing while they walked. As they approached the motel, Patrick took a moment to whisper something in Stevie’s ear. David watched with curiosity as Stevie ducked into the office when they arrived, emerging after a few seconds and pressing something into Patrick’s hand. Before David could follow Alexis into their room, Patrick grabbed his hand and dragged him down the walkway to the room at the end of the row.

“What are we doing?”

“Just taking a tiny detour before we go party with your sister,” Patrick said, unlocking the love room.

“This is a nightmare room, though. Also I fucked Stevie in here.”

“Yeah, like three years ago. I think I can handle it,” Patrick deadpanned as he closed the door and pushed David up against it. 

“They’re going to know what we’re doing.”

“Oh, no. What will I do if your sister and our friends know that you and I are having sex?” He kissed David, his mouth open and searching. “I just need a few minutes alone with my husband.”

David groaned, his head tilting back to thunk against the shade drawn over the door’s window panel. “Say that again.”

Patrick took David’s jacket from his hand, tossing it onto the dresser to his right. David’s tie was already untied, but Patrick unbuttoned another shirt button before he leaned in close, inhaling against David’s neck. “My husband.”

“Mm, fuck, okay. I’m on board now.”

“Good.” Patrick sank to his knees. “Because ever since I saw you walking down the aisle, some percentage of my brain was occupied with the thought of doing this.” He reached up under the skirt of David’s tuxedo, pulling his underwear down to his knees.

David pulled the front of the skirt up, wary of soiling it — it was the most expensive clothing purchase he’d made in years — but also just wanting to watch. 

Patrick just nuzzled against him at first, and it made David wish there had been time for a shower because he’d definitely sweated a lot over the course of the day, but then Patrick had taken his cock into his mouth and David forgot to worry about it.

“Oh my god, you’re so good at that,” David gasped, his hand coming down to cup the back of Patrick’s head. Patrick worked him expertly, and the sight of him filling Patrick’s mouth while Patrick was still wearing his wedding clothes did something intense for David. He let his hips flex, his cock pushing forward into Patrick’s mouth. Into his husband’s mouth. _Fuck_. 

Then without warning, Patrick’s mouth disappeared. 

“Patrick, I’m close, come on,” he whined.

Patrick was looking up at him with those doe-eyes of his. “I don’t know, David. You did already come once today. Maybe I’d like some parity.”

“Oh my god.”

Patrick grinned, standing up. “Can I fuck my husband in this skirt?”

They didn’t manage to get any more clothes off, but they at least managed to make it over to the bed, where thanks to some conveniently placed lube in the bedside table, a few minutes later David found himself on his elbows and knees on those horrible red sheets. Patrick prepped him efficiently, his fingers teasing David’s prostate until he had to bite his hand to keep them from hearing him several doors down. Finally, Patrick pushed inside him with a groan, setting a hard and unrelenting pace from the outset. With a noise that was more sob than anything, David worked his hand down to his cock and stroked himself in time to Patrick’s thrusts. They finished simultaneously, in sync with each other even at this frantic pace.

“Let me clean you up so we don’t mess up your clothes,” David heard Patrick say from somewhere far away. 

“Uh huh,” he murmured into the mattress.

“You still want to go party with the girls?” Patrick asked as he returned from the bathroom with a couple of washcloths.

“As soon as I can feel my arms and legs, sure,” David said.

Once they were cleaned up, they flopped down on their backs side by side and looked up at the mirror on the ceiling.

“Thanks for marrying me today,” David whispered.

“Same.”

~~~

_2031_

David huffed and flipped over onto his other side in the bed, sticking one leg out from under the covers to try to regulate his temperature. He punched his pillow and readjusted it under his head.

Patrick’s voice pierced the near-darkness of the bedroom. “Can’t sleep?”

“I’m fine.” He shifted again, curving his spine in yet another attempt to find a position that didn’t make his back hurt.

“Really? Because you’ve been fidgeting for an hour.”

David turned over, wincing. “Sorry, I can go downstairs. I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

Patrick gestured with his tablet. “You’re not; I was reading.”

“Still, I can go downstairs.”

Setting his tablet reader aside, Patrick rolled toward David. “Do you want to have sex?”

David thought about it, shifting onto his back. “I’m not horny.”

“Me either, but I could probably get there if you wanted to. Either way, I could give you a handjob.”

“It’s the way you’ve never let the romance die that makes this such a successful marriage,” David said, reaching over and patting Patrick’s cheek.

“Yeah, I realize it’s not terribly romantic, but it might help you sleep.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can jerk off if I really want to,” David said.

“Yes, I’m aware you’re capable of jerking off.” Patrick started to turn and reach for his book again. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

“No, wait. I mean, I do sleep better after we’ve fucked than I do after masturbating.”

“You should write for Hallmark,” Patrick said.

“Hey, you’re the one who suggested a utilitarian handjob as a sleep aid.”

“I never said it would be utilitarian.” Patrick scooted closer to David under the thick duvet. “Let’s make sweet, tender love, David.”

“Shut up.”

“Let’s celebrate the beauty of our multi-decade relationship with some lube and—”

“I hate you,” David said, closing the distance between them and kissing him. His hand settled into the familiar spot on Patrick’s neck, long fingers cupped around to stroke through the short hairs on the back of Patrick’s head. He tasted like toothpaste, and even though they’d kissed thousands of times, David still felt a zing of arousal, enveloped in the sensations and warmth of his husband.

Patrick’s hand stole around David’s hip and under the waistband of his sleep pants, fingers digging into his ass cheek and pulling their pelvises flush against each other. A minute of grinding coupled with more deep, wet kisses was all David needed to go from vaguely interested to fully on board.

“Okay, I changed my mind,” David whispered against Patrick’s lips. “I am horny.”

“Mm hmm.”

“As are you,” David said, punctuating that sentence with another grind of his hips.

“Yeah, there’s just something about being kissed by my husband. I don’t know what it is.” Patrick said in that way he had that was simultaneously sarcastic and sweet.

David fumbled in his bedside drawer for lube, then pushed Patrick over onto his back, shoving his underwear down. 

“Wait,” Patrick muttered when David squeezed some lube into his palm. “This is backwards, I was gonna do you.”

“After.” David flung the covers aside and wasted no time in closing his fist around his husband’s cock, setting up the rhythm Patrick liked, alternating long strokes with focused attention on the head while Patrick groaned and clutched at David’s arm. “Want anything else? I can finger you open, or get the vibrator—”

“Next time,” Patrick said, his hips thrusting against David’s fist. “Just this is gonna make me come pretty easily.”

“Yeah?” David kissed him and it was sloppy and kind of desperate, and he wondered not for the first time how they still managed to do this, go from lazy banter to being so hungry for each other they could hardly stand not to be touching.

“Yeah. Fuck, do it harder,” Patrick gasped and David did, squeezing and pumping his fist until Patrick came with a pained moan through his clenched teeth, his hips jerking and then slowing to a stop.

“God, you’re so easy,” David said, grinning smugly as he wiped his hand off on Patrick’s t-shirt. Patrick regained his breath, and then sat up in a crunch and pulled his t-shirt off, wiping his stomach clean and tossing it aside. They switched positions, but Patrick paused before he took David’s cock in his hand. “Would you rather have a blowjob?”

“No, this is good. Although can you…” He trailed off in a moan as Patrick stroked him. “Can you put your fingers inside me?”

“Yeah.” Patrick kissed him on the cheek.

David kicked his sleep pants the rest of the way off while Patrick sat up and helped himself to more lube. Then his hands were everywhere, stroking David’s cock and fingering him open, and David threw his head back and let himself feel all of it. When Patrick crooked his fingers and rubbed against his prostate at the same pace that he was stroking David’s cock with the other hand, David was a goner. He came in such record time that it should have been embarrassing.

“Fuck, you’re too good at that,” David gasped as he reached out and grabbed a fresh clean-up cloth from his bedside table.

“I memorized the cheat codes to a David Rose orgasm more than ten years ago,” Patrick called as he was walking to the bathroom to clean up his hands.

“Mm hmm. Well done.” He was barely aware of Patrick getting back into bed and settling the duvet over him, and with his last shred of consciousness, he reached out and touched his husband’s hand.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too. Goodnight, David.”

“Night.”


End file.
